


i’m alright in bed but i’m better with a pen (post it note romance)

by TwentyOnePhan



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, only a tiny bit of angst!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 03:37:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21451396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwentyOnePhan/pseuds/TwentyOnePhan
Summary: Pete sends Patrick love notes every week, seemingly taking pleasure in making Patrick annoyed as possible. If only Patrick wasn’t so dense, maybe he could see Pete’s giant crush on him.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	i’m alright in bed but i’m better with a pen (post it note romance)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thank you so much for reading i had so much fun writing this fic! tysm to tabby for going over every paragraph as i sent it u mean the world to me and i wouldn’t’ve posted w/o u 🥺🥺 follow her she writes good shit!! ohnoitsmeagainsorry !! alsp disclaimer i am very much Not american and have no fuckin idea how their school shit works so forgive the obvious mistakes!

This was the fourth note this month. 

What was once his greatest annoyance (Patrick had to remind himself not to shoot the messenger when a timid student would arrive right in the middle of their biggest test of the year) became more like a mildly irritating routine; accept with sigh, dismiss student back to PE, act like he wasn’t affected at all when students would give him knowing glances as he shoved the bright pink, heart doodled, note into his desk drawer. 

Because, without fail, Pete Wentz - the arrogant, loud, childish, stupidly hot, dick of a PE teacher - had been sending Patrick terrible, cheesy love notes and bad pick up lines every week for almost a year.

They always included stupid pet names (No Patrick didn’t blush, thank you very much) and were signed with way too many kisses and winky faces to be professional.

They all met the same fate, accepted with a loud huff and a roll of the eyes, and, against his better judgement, stored neatly in his desk drawer. If he looked through them whenever he was having a stressful week to cheer himself up, well, no one was ever going to know. 

Because, like Pete’s habit of becoming the next greatest romantic ever put to post it note every week, Patrick had a problem too; his seemingly undying crush on Mr Wentz.

_______________

Ryan arrived late to gym, again (not that he was complaining). He never volunteered to be his teacher’s personal cupid, delivering notes across the school, but anything that got him out of torturous lessons of soccer was ideal in his books. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Mr Wentz, he was sweet, funny and seemed to understand the tortured artist vibe he was sporting, it was just Ryan was absolutely useless at almost any physical activity. Bracing himself, he dragged his feet over to the soccer field.

“RYAN! My God I missed you my angel!”   
Before he could fully step on the field, he was lifted off the ground by Brendon, his ever over-enthusiastic boyfriend, caught in a tight hug and a wet kiss to his cheek.

“Chill out, it’s only been, what?, an hour since we last saw each other?” This did nothing to curb Brendon’s dramatic affection, and Ryan blushed in spite of himself, resting his head on top of Brendon’s. He could hear the rest of their friend’s gagging noises and jeers behind them and flipped them off, enjoying as little time spent playing soccer as possible and his boyfriend’s strong arms wrapped around his chest. 

“Lovebirds! Let’s get moving!” He could hear Mr Wentz shout from across the pitch and reluctantly let Brendon go, joining the rest of their team. As he caught Mr Wentz's eye, he was given an over-exaggerated wink, no doubt about the love note he delivered earlier, so in return he gave a half-hearted thumbs up. Being a messenger for these seemingly incapable 30-something year olds wasn’t what Ryan thought his PE lessons this year would entail, it was honestly getting ridiculous. Even Josh and Tyler managed to work out their feelings quicker than this, despite their firm “no homo!” (obvious) flirting. Brendon glanced between him and Mr Wentz like a confused puppy; Ryan gave him a pointed look and Brendon’s eyes sparkled, understanding, and God, Ryan loved him. Their hands entwined and maybe soccer wasn’t so bad.

_______________

“Another love letter?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ! Don’t just sneak up on me like that!” yelped Patrick, slamming his desk drawer shut at record speed, shaking his cacti and sending droplets of coffee over his desk.

Joe, the smug bastard, just smirked and sauntered over, perching on the edge of his desk, not the least intimidated by Patrick’s glare. “You know, you could, like, talk to Pete. He’s obviously interested” 

Patrick huffed. “There is no way in hell I could that. Anyways, he just does it to piss me off, he doesn’t actually mean any of it.” Joe’s eyebrows shot up at the statement but Patrick elected to ignore him. “He’s just being a dick and I refuse to let myself get humiliated over Pete Wentz.”

Deep down, a part of Patrick truly hoped Pete was being genuine (not that he’d ever tell Joe that) but Pete was like this with most people, or at least so he’d been told. He tried to stay as far away from Pete as he could manage, to avoid either punching him in the face or kissing him, both very possible outcomes to any conversation they shared.. 

“Well, you’re gonna have to talk to him at one point anyways, you can’t ignore him forever.”

“I can try..” muttered Patrick, earning a pointed stare.

“Besides, aren’t the band performing at the school game next? You do realise Pete is the soccer coach so he is definitely going to be there all night. Good luck ignoring him then.”

Fuck. Patrick had completely forgot. Fuck. He’d have to be around Pete all night, he’s going to end up killing him. Pete is extra insufferable at soccer matches, louder than usual (somehow) and pointedly showing off, making sure he was in Patrick’s line of sight, as if he took pride in making Patrick want to commit homicide. 

Patrick groaned loudly, dropping his head onto the desk, earning a soft chuckle and a pat on the head from Joe. “Good luck champ. And remember, I’m broke this month so there’s no bailing you out of jail if you commit assault, just saying”

He thumped his head against the desk again, then once more, just for good luck.

_______________

It was well after school had finished, soccer practise for the big game next week had just about dissipated, Brendon still chasing Tyler around the field with a worm on stick. The usual. 

Pete was drained, the team were good but they couldn’t afford to just be Good. The away team, Felsted something-or-other, was supposed to Exceptional and needless to say, Pete was stressed. He believed in his team but knew that they were terrified about this and a lose could really break their confidence. 

He sighed quietly, ruffling his hair and tried to put it out of his mind for the time being. Food, he needed food. Badly. Sending a quick text to Frank about meeting for pizza, receiving a short but very enthusiastic reply of many exclamation marks, he pulled on his coat and bag, and got ready to go. A tap on his shoulder out of nowhere caused him to yelp.

“Shit! What the hell!” He whipped around to see Brendon and Tyler, sporting cheshire cat like grins, looking up at him. He didn’t trust this, narrowing his eyes at them. “Oh, sorry, it’s just you boys. Anything I can help you with?”

“Oh nothing, sir, don’t worry. Just wondering where you were off to this evening” Brendon’s eyes glinted , betraying his (terrible) innocent expression. “Going out with someone?”

Oh, he didn’t trust this at all. “Uhh, nowhere special, just for pizza I think.”

He was slightly alarmed when the boys’ smiles widened and they locked eyes for a split second, quickly whipping round again to face him. “A date? Who with? A certain music teacher,, perhaps?” 

There it was. He should’ve guessed their ulterior motive from the wicked grins. Pete rolled his eyes. He wasn’t exactly subtle about his massive, soul-consuming crush on Patrick (he did send his own students with handwritten pick up lines once a week) but this was the first time it was acknowledged by a student outside of a nod after a delivery during class. 

Fighting the blush rising to his cheeks (traitorous body) he quickly shook his head and gave an awkward laugh. A string of denials tumbled from his lips, he knew he was making a fool of himself in front of two teenagers. God, get it together Pete. 

Brendon and Tyler only gave each other a sly smile and, thankfully, began to walk off, not before shooting him a grin and shouting “Good luck Mr Wentz! See ya tomorrow” before giggling. 

Pete threw his head and groaned when they disappeared from sight. Fuck. If he couldn’t even keep it together around two students, how would he ever begin to tell Patrick how he feels face to face? He walked briskly to his car, wanting nothing more than takeaway pizza and a night of shitty movies. Maybe that would calm his already fraying nerves. Unlikely, but God loves a trier.

_______________

“You gotta do something already, man,” Frank said through a mouthful of pizza, “He’s obviously not taking the hint. Grow a pair of balls and actually speak to him.”

Pete grumbled, taking another bite of pizza, and avoided Frank’s eyes on him. He only hummed in response, receiving an exasperated sigh from the sofa. It wasn’t as easy as just talking to him, he’d been trying to send Patrick signals for months. He always went out of his way to talk to him at school events, showing off his team and his soccer tricks to impress him, sending him fucking love letters every week. Either Patrick really, truly didn’t like him, or he was the most oblivious person on earth. A part of Pete told him it was very probably the former and Patrick really did hate his guts, but Pete was nothing if not persistent and besides, Patrick had never outwardly expressed such hate so, ever hopeful, he clung onto the latter.

“What about the big game next week? The school band will be playing at that, aren’t they? You could try and say something then?” mused Gerard from the sofa, ever so casually, as if that wasn’t the most terrifying suggestion Pete had ever heard. Pete returned his statement with wide eyes, and began gesturing dramatically, pizza slice still in hand.

“Oh sure, that’ll turn out great! ‘Hey Patrick, I’ve been in love with you for a year and, despite your blatant ignorance of my proclamations every week, I’m here to sweep you off your feet! Run away with me, my Juliet!’ God, do you even hear yourself Gee?”

Gerard only raised his eyebrows and laughed quietly, resuming stroking Frank’s hair as the shorter man lounged in his lap. Pete hated them sometimes, especially because he knew they were right. All he had to do was act like a normal, functioning adult and not a lovesick, nervous teenager but fuck, that was so difficult around Patrick. He didn’t want to fuck this up, he couldn’t fuck this up. Losing Patrick would be comparable to like, imminent death! (Okay so he had a few glasses of wine and gets particularly dramatic when tipsy, sue him!)

Breaking his downward spiral of thoughts of a life without Patrick, Pete grabbed another slice of pizza and tried to focus on whatever was on the TV. Just some reruns of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (‘Yes, Frank, he knows he looks creepily similar to Mac, no he wasn’t a long lost twin’). Not enough to take his mind off his growing mass of worries; fucking things up with Patrick, losing the match next week, where the fuck were his keys and other assorted anxieties. Groaning, he shoved his head in the nearest cushion, seeking refuge from everyone and everything. All he had to do was act like a normal person; talk to Patrick, spill his feelings, win the game. Whatever, he thought, that was next week’s problem. Pizza and re-runs were calling his name and who was he to refuse Frank and Gee’s hospitality?

_______________

The days after Pete’s last note became a blur, Patrick’s thoughts tangled in constant motion and preparation for the band’s performance at the school soccer match. 

He would be sure they were totally prepared, then someone would casually drop the bomb that they couldn’t make it, then everything flew back into the air again. Joe had to stop him from dragging the coffee machine in the staff room to his desk he was that tired. Pete hadn’t sent any more notes Patrick noticed in a moment of peace. He tried not to reflect on the sadness within his mind circulating that fact.

Before Patrick had time to breathe, it was Tuesday, the day of the match. His day was spent frantically preparing, making sure they had everything in order. They couldn’t fuck this up.

“They’ll be fine,” Joe assured him, subtly taking the cup of coffee from his shaking hands (from nerves or caffeine overdose Patrick couldn’t be sure). “They’ve worked hard and so have you, there’s no reason it shouldn’t go perfect. Just breathe man, I’ll take over last minute prep, go have some water or something.”

God, Patrick could kiss Joe. He tried to thank him but was cut off, Joe just smiling him then ushering him away. Inhaling a shaky breath, he walked in the direction of the water fountain, needing something other than coffee in his system. He let his mind stop for a minute, walking on muscle memory, and tried to clear his negative thoughts. 

He was going to be fine, he’s prepared all he could, it’s going to be great!’ 

“Shit”

Patrick slammed into something solid, yet warm, expressing a quick huff at the impact. He shook his head, collecting his thoughts and suddenly meeting eyes with him. So that’s what he ran into. Wide, caramel eyes looked into his, before they creased into a smile. Blushing, Patrick took a step back, separating from being flush against Pete’s chest. Of course it had to be him, of course.

Pete continued to grin and Patrick couldn’t even stammer out an apology, just stared dumbly. He hated him, hated how beautiful he was; with his puppy dog eyes and soft looking ebony hair (how Patrick dreamed of running his hands through it) Pete was insufferable and so out of Patrick’s league it stung. 

_______________

Pete broke the silence, letting out a soft chuckle. “Hey Pattycakes! Forgot you would be here!” (like he could ever) He enjoyed the flush on Patrick’s face and the crease in his brow at the nickname. He was so cute.

“Don’t call me that” Patrick muttered instantly, almost unconsciously, if going by the dazed look still lingering on his face.

Pete was whipped; he knew this, the whole damn school knew this, yet it still took Pete off guard sometimes just how perfect Patrick was. Strawberry blonde hair that always looked so soft and the brightest blue eyes Pete had ever seen, he could die in them if he could, if he hadn’t already. It was just a shame Patrick probably hated him or Pete would have asked for his hand in marriage a long time ago. 

Patrick seemed to snap back to reality as he looked at Pete with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights, and moved to walk away, apology forming on his lips. Shit, he couldn’t leave now.

“Uhh, where you heading?” he started and Patrick turned around. Yes!

“Just to get a drink of water, or something that’s not caffeine.”

“Oh, so was I! I’ll come with you!” 

Patrick gave him confused look, opening his mouth as if to say something then thinking better of it, shutting it. Pete smiled and they began to walk side by side. 

It was eerily silent, Pete too nervous to speak up, so he spent the albeit short walk observing Patrick. The bags under his eyes seemed more pronounced and he was paler than usual. Pete frowned at the thought of Patrick not taking care of himself and overworking. He must try and break that habit one day. As they reached the water fountain, the silence lingered but they did meet eyes and Patrick gave him a small smile so Pete counted that as a win. No matter how many times he tried to speak, the words got caught in his throat. Fuck what was wrong with him, he was never usually like this. Luckily, Patrick was more occupied with getting a drink so he didn’t have to witness Pete trying and failing to form a sentence. Opening his mouth for what felt like the 18th time, he stuttered and Patrick turned to face him, wide blue eyes meeting his. Fuck, he actually had to say something now. Unfortunately, when Pete was nervous, he rambled about every thought that came to his mind and once he began, he couldn’t stop.

“S-So.. uh.. You nervous? I am, definitely, it’s gonna be a big game ‘Trick, lotsa people. Let’s hope no one like breaks a leg or anything, that’d be fucked up.. and horribly inconvenient… and probably Brendon’s fault. Fuck, I’ve left the team out there alone, shit, I better go see them, shit, I’m so sorry Patrick, it’s been great to see you! Wait, I’ll see you later though but anyway good luck iloveyou ok bye!”

Swing, miss, crash and burn spectacularly .

Pete whipped around practically ran down the hall. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. God, he was such a fuck up! He had One (1) job! Act normal! Of course he managed to fuck that up. His face was red hot and he could feel the sweat on his forehead, wiping it away with clammy hands. Laughter broke him from his thoughts and as he walked outside, he saw his team lounging on the benches, Like they didn’t have the biggest game of the season in less than two hours.

“What the hell do you think you’re all doing? This is some sort of free time to you? I don’t know if it occured to you that we have a match in less than two hours but it sure as hell did to me! Get moving!”

Pete knew he was taking out his frustration on them but he couldn’t give a shit. He just accidentally told the possible love of his life he loved him then bolted; if anyone was allowed to be annoyed right now, it was him. Scowling, he watched the team reluctantly begin to run laps, ignoring their confused faces at his sudden outburst. 

“What the fuck happened to him in the space of 5 minutes?” Brendon muttered to Tyler, jogging half-heartedly beside him. 

“Dunno, but I’ll bet you a cheeseburger after the game it had something to do with Mr Stump.”

Brendon’s eyes glittered and he nodded enthusiastically. “Deal.”

_______________

Patrick stared at the Pete sized absence in the hallway for a further 2 minutes after he disappeared. What the fuck just happened?

One second, they were in comforting silence, Patrick not irritated by Pete’s presence for once, the next Pete was frantically rambling for 30 seconds, telling him he loved him then promptly running away. 

Patrick was still failing to process all of this.

Cup of water long forgotten, he stumbled down the hallway after Pete, desperate to find out what the fuck that was and if he really meant it. 

By the time he got back out to the field, Pete was completely absorbed by training, orders to the team echoed around the empty space. He never turned from his direction however, back firmly facing the door, avoiding anyone else at all cost. 

Fine, Patrick scowled, if he wants to act like an immature child, well, two can play at that game

Patrick stormed over to where the band was rehearsing, the opposite end of the field, and began instructing each section to practise. Any thought regarding the other man was quickly pushed down, kicked from his mind. The game was in an hour and a half, he didn’t have time for him right now. 

_______________

The stadium buzzed with energy, benches packed with kids and families from both schools and incessant chatter filled the air. 

Patrick was currently trying to manage three tasks at once: talk his students down from a mass panic attack, talk himself down from a panic attack and definitely not, under no circumstances, think about Pete. The results showed varying degrees of success. 

Distantly, he could hear the speakers of the stadium boom, introducing the match and getting the crowd riled up. It was all white noise to him, anything that wasn't within his immediate vicinity didn’t exist right now. 

Suddenly, Joe was tapping his shoulder, shouting in his ear, trying to cut through the constant buzz,  
“Hey man, that’s us out now. Come on dude, we gotta go”

Stabling himself with a shaky breath, he turned and faced Joe, giving him a thankful smile, then marched to the front of the band to deliver one last war cry before they stepped onto the pitch. 

“OK, OK guys listen to me! You will all do fine! You’ve worked hard and nailed it at every single practise! There’s no reason that we should mess up, trust me!” 

He was met with worried faces but barrelled on,  
“Look, you guys can and will smash it you hear me? Now get out there and blow their asses off!”

Not everyone seemed appropriately pumped but gave him shaky smiles as they walked out, entering the roaring stadium. Patrick and Joe followed suit, watching from the side of the field with encouraging smiles. 

As the surrounding audience silenced, the band began to play. 

Needless to say, they smashed it. Patrick had never felt so proud, shedding a silent tear. They did it.

As the kids marched off the field, their faces burst into bright grins, overjoyed laughter ringing through the air as they wrapped each other in hugs. Patrick was hugging as many students as he could, congratulating them, and if he started crying again at least no one brought it up. 

With all remaining tears shed, they made their way out to the field to watch the match. In the distance, Patrick could see the team in a huddle, receiving a pep talk of their own. Whooping and cheering, the huddle split, dividing to their places on the field. Pete stormed over to the sidelines and for a heart-wrenching second (or lifetime, it was hard to tell) they caught each others eyes. Patrick could see Pete’s furrowed brow yet wide, nervous eyes and his chest ached before Pete quickly found the grass to be much more riveting, glare fixed firmly near his shoes. 

He could feel his heart twist and wrench, eyes fixated on Pete’s hunched figure on the bench, as if he was trying to make himself small enough to disappear. What the hell was he meant to do? He couldn’t imagine how Pete felt but how do you even start that conversation? ‘Hey Pete I know you’re mortified because you said you loved me 2 hours ago and we haven’t made eye contact since but I love you too, let’s leave the game and kiss!’ Absolutely not.

Resigning himself to figuring that task out later, he focussed his attention around the stadium, spotting familiar faces around him in the crowd; Ryan Ross (a quiet but insanely talented kid whom Patrick was fond of) was giving to a small, encouraging smile to someone on the pitch, presumably Brendon Urie (the kid who could play any instrument known to man and sing like an angel. Was it morally wrong to be jealous of a student?) judging by the latter’s enthusiastic waving and kiss blowing from the field. Patrick’s student observation served as a useful distraction, at least until the game started. 

The blow of the whistle cut through the air and the players began to run, chasing after the ball up the pitch. Patrick never really cared for sports - way too much of a nerd - but he could admire why people got so invested. Seeing the players maneuver the ball with such skill, making it look effortless, was entrancing to watch, especially when one is doing everything they can to not look 90 degrees to their left where a certain coach is residing. Every so often Patrick could hear Pete shout out encouragements or criticisms, his voice alone making Patrick’s heart skip a beat. 

He had to talk to Pete, he decided resolutely, and it had to be tonight. 

The only problem was trying to keep Pete in one spot long enough to approach him. He seemed to have developed some sort of sixth sense to Patrick’s presence; whenever Patrick edged along the sidelines towards him during the game, he was suddenly down the other end of the pitch or at half time, he spent every second talking to a student or mysteriously absent, avoiding Patrick like the fucking plague. 

It didn’t help asking the team where he went either, only receiving tired shrugs in response. 

“Sorry sir, I have no idea, honest. One second he was talking to Josh and I, the next he was gone.” Tyler noted from the bench, still red in the face and flush against Josh’s side, the latter boy’s arm around his shoulders.

“Yeah, he’s been totally off since we began practising. He was totally fine when we arrived then suddenly he was all grumpy and made us do laps.” chimed in Brendon with a grimace, Ryan at his side. 

Patrick sighed. “Well, when he comes back, could you please tell him Pat- I mean Mr Stump needs to speak to him. Thanks guys and hey, good luck on the second half, you’re doing really well!”

“Aye aye captain!” chanted Brendon with a mock salute as the others blushed through thanking him.

Patrick began walking back to meet Joe, keeping an ever hopeful eye out for jet black hair among the crowd.

_______________

To say this was one of the worst nights of Pete’s life was an understatement. He had spent the whole night miserable, stressed, cold (damn his shitty jacket, he knew he should’ve brought a hoodie) and dodging Patrick all night. Going out of his way to avoid Patrick was so unlike his usual desires, it stung every time he had to duck into the bathrooms or behind the bleachers so as not to have to talk to him. He knew he had fucked up big time, Patrick was probably hunting him down to kick him in the balls, a final fuck you before cutting himself off from his life forever.

As he tentatively stepped back out onto the field, he gave a pained sigh of relief as he saw Patrick’s back turned, walking towards the opposite end of the pitch. He was being a coward, he knew that loud and clear, but he’d rather be a coward than face angry Patrick and risk losing him forever. Even if he couldn’t hide from him forever, he could at least try and prolong what time he had left. 

Sulking, he made his way over to the team, getting them prepared for the second half. Pretending that he was fine was probably the worst tactic right now, several pairs of curious and pitiful eyes tracked his every move, but he just couldn’t muster up the energy to actually confront what had happened. He began to to pep talk them, help with their strategies, when he was cut off.

“Mr Stump said he needs to speak to you.”

The words cut through him like a knife. No, worse than a knife. A searing white hot blade that dug repeatedly into his insides. There, that felt more appropriate. His face began to flush and his palms felt sweaty already. This was all his fault, he reminded himself.

Expectant eyes looked at him and he simply gave a gruff, indistinct noise of affirmation before continuing with his speech then sending the team on their way. With his back turned on them, he took a moment to try and breathe again, stable himself and pray infinitely harder for the ground to come and swallow him whole.

The piercing scream of the whistle cut through his mantra of ‘Please let the ground collapse beneath me’ and the teams sprang into action. OK, soccer, he knew this. All he had to do was help the team along a little bit for the next 45 minutes. He could handle that. Totally. He had this all under control, as long as he avoided any sort of interaction with Patrick, things should go smoothly.

And against all odds they did. An easy win, 2-1 to their team and Pete finally felt a bit of weight being lifted from his shoulders. On the field he saw his players bounce around ecstatically, lifting each other up and spinning around, a picture of pure euphoria. Ryan had ran from the benches straight into Brendon’s arms, covering him with kisses and wrapping his legs around his waist. Tyler had Josh by the hand, laughing delightedly as they ran around the pitch, stealing kisses from each other. 

Pete felt so proud of them he felt his heart could burst, could feel his chest swelling and God, this is what is was all for. For the first time all night, his face split into a grin, smaller than his usual charming smiles, but there all the same. In his short lived joy, he almost forgot about Patrick.

“Pete?”

Speak of the devil. Pete’s grin slipped off his face in an instant, replaced with wide, anxious eyes that could put a deer in the headlights of an 18 wheeler truck to shame. Maybe if he stayed with his back to Patrick, he would take the hint and leave. Maybe if he just stayed still long enough…

“Pete, please”

No such luck. Slowly, he turned to face Patrick, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible. There was nowhere to run now, he had to face this head on. This would’ve been so much easier had Patrick not been looking at him like that, bright blue eyes looking ever so pained and vulnerable, his features contorted into a picture of pity.. or worry, Pete couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he never, ever wanted to be the reason Patrick looked so hurt again, wanted to protect him from himself and everything else horrible in the world.

“Patrick. I-I am so sorry, I really truly am. That was totally inappropriate of me and I probably made you feel really uncomfortable. I’m so sorry. I understand if u never wanna,, like, talk to me again, I totally get it. I-”

“Did you mean it?”

Patrick’s words slipped out almost silently, it was a miracle Pete heard them at all. He stared, jaw slack, cut off mid sentence, and stared at Patrick. 

“What?”

“What you said to me… did you mean it?”

The raw vulnerability on Patrick’s face made Pete want to cry. Patrick seemed to be baring his soul to him, trusting Pete to answer this and not break his heart in the process. Pete had never felt so terrified. 

The world seemed to still around them, slowing to a stop, till only they existed; only they were breathing, hearts beating and breaking all at once. 

“Yes.”

Before he realised what he had just said, lips came crashing down onto his, soft and warm and so much more than Pete had ever dreamed they would be. The world began to spin again, this time so fast Pete felt dizzy. Electricity seemed to spark between them and before his brain short circuited, frazzling at the core, his mind provided him with only one last coherent thought.

Kiss back idiot.

Desperately, he deepened the kiss, pulling Patrick impossibly closer as their lips slotted together. He felt Patrick hum into the kiss, felt his smile on his lips, and began to melt. He pressed his hands to Patrick’s face, steadying himself, reminding himself that it really was Patrick. What the fuck was happening. As Patrick wrapped his arms around his waist, Pete knew that this was it, this was his ultimatum; if he couldn’t have this, there was no point in having anything. Nothing could compare. He had never felt safer than when in Patrick’s arms and he doubted he’d ever be able to leave.

Humming again, Patrick softly broke away from Pete’s mouth, never losing distance, and looked up at Pete through his eyelashes. Pete gave a whine and tried to chase his lips and reconnect the kiss but Patrick only gave a soft laugh, muttering their first words in several minutes.

“The notes… you meant them all didn’t you? You really do like me?”

Pete’s heart almost broke, hearing Patrick’s soft voice sound so tentative about Pete’s love. Pete would send him a million heart doodled notes if it made Patrick believe how adored he was. Pete only leaned closed, resting their foreheads together and whispering,

“Every single one. Always”

Patrick’s blush was always one of his favourite things, doing everything he could to seek it out, and seeing it so close only made Pete love it more, made him realise he may never deserve Patrick but he would do everything he could to try and earn him. 

Lightly, Pete began to pepper Patrick’s face with kisses, drawing more soft laughs from him as he squirmed from Pete’s reach, which only encouraged him more. After Patrick was successfully an even deeper shade of red and every inch of his face was covered, Pete pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you Patrick Stump”

“I love you Pete Wentz”

_______________

“And did you see my shot towards the goals! BOOM! AMAZING! AND THE CROWD WENT WILD!” 

“It never even went in dude!”

“It got fucking close dude! That counts!”

The four of them made their way across the field, animatedly narrating their highs from the match. Brendon was bouncing around them, reenacting every recount, still very much on an adrenaline high. Ryan had since given up on trying to control him, simply watching him with fond, sparkling eyes. Tyler and Josh had a firm grip of each other’s hands, shoulders brushing and providing Brendon with sarcastic comments. It was the happiest all of them had felt in a while, stress free and excitable, enjoying each other’s company like it was the best drug in the world. 

Brendon was midway through a dramatic performance of a slide tackle during the match when his voice cut off abruptly, eyes fixed into the distance. The others stopped, alarmed at the lack of Brendon suddenly. Their eyes followed his and landed on a body - a pair of bodies? - not so far away.

“Is that…”

“Mr Stump and Mr Wentz?”

The silence was deafening between them, cogs in their bains turning until Tyler gasped and blurted, “Are they making out?!”

The pair in question made no move to acknowledge their presence, too caught up in each other. Slowly, the boys turned to face each other, eyes meeting and sharing many silent questions. 

Finally, Brendon broke into a wide grin, eyes lighting up, and turned to Tyler.

“You owe me a cheeseburger Mr Joseph!”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading it means so much to me !!


End file.
